


You're Poison Running Through My Veins

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Being A Sexy Weirdo, Bucky Is Kind Of Creepy In This, Eventual Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Masturbation, Intense Foreplay, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Masturbation, Obsession, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Porn, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slight Split Personality To Start With, The Author Regrets Everything, Voyeurism, What Was I Thinking?, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overcome with desire, the Winter Soldier finally pursues Jasmine Moore after countless nights of watching her. But still in the depths of inner turmoil, he's torn between the predatory nature of the assassin and the lustful, passionate man he once was.</p>
<p>Jasmine is mortified by the turn of events, but soon finds herself being plucked from the realms of fear and lured into a sweet, erotic world of ecstacy by the insatiable, tireless Bucky Barnes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Craving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was pretty much inspired by the song 'Poison' by Alice Cooper, hence the title ^.^
> 
> As a warning, this does have non-con elements and very...'stalker-like' vibes, so it's rather unsettling to start out with. Please avoid reading if either of those things is a trigger for you. I know this is very different and MUCH darker than what I usually write, but I just had an urge to do something creepy. 
> 
> I hope this isn't too crappy. I'd appreciate any comments or feedback, but I'm certainly not demanding it. This first chapter will be fairly short, as I'm kind of 'testing the waters' with this style of fic :) seeing as I usually do fluff or 'light hearted' PWP :D
> 
> Thank you for reading this :D

He watches her.

Every night, at around eight o' clock, she goes for her jog-cutting through the deserted park. He can hear her sneakers crunch lightly across the pebbles chips of the public footpath and her soft, breathy pants from the physical exertion. He watches her from his hiding place, in the midst of a clump of trees, his sordid desires and fascination obscured by the darkness and shadows. He makes sure to avoid the tangerine glow of the street-lamps, preferring to remain completely out of sight. He's good at it, stealth is something that was etched over and over into the blank canvas of his mind. Even now, gathering the fragments of his past, sometimes finding himself overcome with grief for his crimes-he can still be a soundless shadow. He can be a ghost when he wants to be.

He notices the side-to-side sway of her ponytail, the twitch of her earbuds' wires, the expression of intent focus on the distance. The way her tank top sticks to her clammy skin, molding to the curvature of her torso, is of particular interest in him. Something about the female physique stirs-what he assumes to be- long forgotten urges in the fog of his mind. James Buchanan Barnes of the forties would have been excited by this, _**aroused**_ by such a sight. He can feel this red-blooded man's yearning seeping into his loins, a warm stirring in his core, picturing her body.

The Winter Soldier, on the other hand, is unfamiliar with these feelings. He'd always been indifferent, carrying out his assignments with diligence and obedience. The Soldier doesn't know how to comprehend James Barnes' growing need. He simply knows that if anything was required, he was usually given the task of attaining it or, more often than not, _**eliminating**_ it. 'It' being either a person or valuable information.

James Barnes craves this woman. The Winter Soldier can retrieve her for him.

 

The Soldier has followed her to her apartment enough times that he knows her routine. Even when so near to her, she's never been suspcious, never glanced over her shoulder on the back of some 'hunch'. She's so **_relaxed_** , so confident...so trusting. Such notions confuse the Soldier, they define the utter antithesis of who _**he**_ is. What the Soldier perceives as weaknesses, 'Bucky' Barnes finds to be a soothing balm to the darkness in his mind and soul. James wants to be close to this woman, he wants to hold her and speak softly words of adoration in her ear.

Instead of following her this time, he gives himself time to arrive at the apartment before her. Expecting to face the barrier of breaking in without leaving a trace, his mind calculates a number of methods, but it proves unneccessary.

She's left the door on the latch _**this time**_. Perhaps she was planning on taking a shorter jog?

_**So much faith**_ , the Soldier thinks, slowly pushing the door open and entering the unlit apartment. He's careful to leave the door in precisely the same position as it was left.

Peering around, as if surveying the vague outline of furniture in the dark room, he walks toward a couch and sits down.

He waits...

 

She arrives not longer after his entry. Following her routine, she doesn't switch on any of the lights; instead, shutting the door behind her, kicking off her sneakers and then unplugging herself from her iPod as she makes a purposeful beeline for her bedroom. The Soldier remains comfortably in his place on the couch, opposite her room. The woman opens her bedroom her, not bothering to shut it as she strides in. The Soldier sees her return her iPod to its place on her bedside table, and then tug her hairband out- liberating her sleek, ebony hair in a cascading motion over her shoulders. Bucky feels his flesh fingers twitch instinctively, wanting to comb them through her locks. The Soldier continues observing her, in a manner that could be described as 'stoic'.

There's a dull trill from the phone, in the main area of the apartment where the Soldier is waiting. His eyes flicker across immediately, and his hand goes to draw his knife from its sheath- still belted on his black cargo pants. Fortunately, the recipient of the phone call has elected not to take the call, instead wandering into her en-suite bathroom to turn the shower on. The answer machine responds to the caller- a young woman- judging by the sound of her voice in the brief message she leaves-

" _ **Hi Jasmine, it's Katie. I was just wondering if you wanted to meet for lunch this Saturday. Let me know when you can. Speak to you soon, hun !**_ "

_**Jasmine**_ , Bucky repeats in his mind. Delicate, white flowers spring to memory. So fragrant, so beautiful.

The Soldier continues his observation, clutching his knife and twirling it slowly, the tip pressed against the couch cushion. When he sees her amble languidly back into her bedroom, he no longer has the guide of her routine to follow. By this point, he would usually vacate the apartment, experiencing these underlying feelings of guilt and self-loathing for invading the privacy of this woman's life. Of _**Jasmine 's**_ life.

Then he notices her peel her tank top off, over her head, and fling it carelessly onto the side. His passive watching becomes more interested. He sits straighter, his body language altering _**very**_   slightly as his curiosity is piqued. He even desists spinning his knife absent-mindledly. Something _**primal** _ starts to awaken in his brain, likely the doing of Bucky Barnes. The sight before him; of all that silken, cafe-au-lait skin, the inward curve of her waist, and the slight swell of her covered breasts- makes him feel that warm stirring in his groin. When she removes her cropped yoga-pants, he finds himself swallowing in anticipation. _**Bucky**_ is entranced, the warmth down below becoming an intense heat. Involuntarily, he huffs out a small gasp, stifled by the mask over his mouth. An urge to storm forward, swoop in and press her to his body gnaws away at his gut. He  _ **must resist**_.

When Jasmine strips off entirely, casting aside her underwear- round, pert buttocks and perky breasts on display- Bucky finds himself breathing heavier, the stirring in his groin accompanied by a light tingle, and a _**tightening**_ in his genitals. He's growing hard, and he's not particularly sure how to deal with such an 'issue'. There's a heat spreading over his leather and bulletproof vest clad torso, and perspiration pricks at his forehead.

_**What's happening ?**_   The Soldier wonders, disconcerted by such bodily reactions. But _**Bucky**_   knows. He's starting to remember.

 


	2. Taking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, folks, towards the end of the chapter- there are some potential triggers, mainly linked to the 'dubious consent' of this fic. It's nothing too bad, but I thought I'd give you all a warning.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, fabulous people! ^.^
> 
> P.S. Also, spot the Lana del Rey reference (if you know of her songs). In all fairness, I've not made it very subtle :3 hehehehe...

Bucky waits in the darkness of Jasmine's apartment, the sudden surge of lust abating mercifully. He remains in his seat on the couch, resuming the steady twirling of his knife, listening to Jasmine's angellic voice singing over the sound of her shower-

" _**And my jazz collection's rare**_...

_**I can play most anything...** _

_**I'm a Brooklyn baby...** _

_**I'm a Brookyn baby...**_ "

He doesn't know the song, only able to appreciate the high, clear beauty of her voice, dancing gracefully from note to note. ' _ **Brooklyn**_ ', however, stirs a memory in the murky depths of his mind. He remembers Steve Rogers-so fragile and plagued with ailements back then, but so full of hope, integrity and a strength that the body cannot grant. He recalls poverty, struggling to buy enough food for the both of them. Yet he also remembers joy, laughter and dancing with women ; genuine delight written over their lovely faces, as they danced the Swing with him to upbeat music.

Her voice is the melody that fills his heart when such good memories rush to the forefront of his thoughts. It's flashbacks of walking through parks on warm, Summer days, of ice cream at Coney Island...even of Steve's kind face hovering above his, the embodiment of a guardian angel, come to rescue him from captivity. As Bucky peers out of the apartment's large windows, tranquility floods his soul, while he drinks in the city-scape that spans across into the horizon. That is until he hears the shower being turned off, and Jasmine's singing cease. Bucky swivels his head in the direction of her bedroom, alerted to the sudden silence. The door of her en-suite bathroom is creaked open, and she pads out unhurriedly into her room.

Bucky leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, transfixed by her every move. Jasmine pauses, looking at her bed, as if in deliberation. For a chilling moment, Bucky believes she's somehow heard him shifting in his seat or breathing behind his mask- but is quickly relieved when she simply lets her towel to fall into a crumpled pile about her feet.

Well, perhaps more than relieved? There's the heat pooling in his belly, the excited stirring in his crotch ; his body tenses in eager anticipation.

Jasmine slides onto her bed, crawling toward the headboard on all fours. When she sets herself down and rolls smoothly onto her back, Bucky frowns in curiosity, a crease appearing between his brows. He wonders what she's doing, seeing as she's neither dressed nor settling beneath the quilt. She rests a hand on her stomach, her shimmering, raven tresses spread out on the pillow beneath her; as far as Bucky could see. Her eyelids flutter shut, and she squirms around on the bed. A thought, an uncertain guess leaps into the back of his mind...

 

 _ **Is she going to...?**_ He considers, for a moment. But all coherent, rational thought drains away when he sees her hands go to her breasts, and massage them _**tenderly**_. Bucky can just about see her luscious lips part, and her head tip back into the pillow. His heart beat quickens, as he's greeted with a flurry of _**urges**_ . The growing _**need**_   worsens at his core as Jasmine begins gently rolling her nipples between the thumb and forefinger of both hands- turning the soft nubs into firm, sinfully alluring peaks that have Bucky breathing heavily into his mask.

His male instincts are sent hurtling into overdrive the moment Jasmine raises her knees gradually, parting her legs to reveal the tuft of black pubic hair, and dark lips of her womanhood. Bucky thinks how exposed and _**vulnerable**_ she is in such a position, but nonetheless, marvels at this exquisite sight ; his heart now hammering furiously in his chest. Distractedly, he starts to trace- over his mask- the outline of her delectable mouth with the tip of his knife. Bucky's sexual instinct has pushed aside the rigid conditioning and restraint of the Winter Soldier, and his flesh hand goes to rub his erection through the fabric of his cargo pants. He imagines clambering on top of her nude body, eyes level with her own. Perhaps she smiles lovingly up at him? Lowers her lids in a seductive gaze, speaks his name with ardorous relish and unbuckles his belt before sliding her hand into his boxers-

Instead, Bucky is still on the couch, palming his hard length through two layers of material, his breathig now ragged. Jasmine's right hand wanders down to her beautiful parts, the forefinger rubbing in small circles over her swollen lips. Bucky's stomach knots in excitement, savouring the prospect of watching her pleasure herself. He can feel his body trembling, screaming at him to reward his length with friction to bring about a release. Yet a more primal part of him pleads for more than just release- it's begging him to slide into Jasmine's gripping heat, to envelope his shaft in the comfort and security of her walls, to elicit sweet cries of delight from her. The pain of denying himself such a desire is indeed uncomfortable, but the alternative eases the ache in his parts.

The very second the tip of Jasmine's finger moves back and forth over her clitoris, Bucky discards his knife beside him and fumbles with his belt, shoving his flesh hand into his underwear. The head of his penis is leaking, and has already left a wet patch on his boxers. There's little else he can do beside satisfying his need. Perspiration starts to soak through his pores as he pumps his fist along his shaft. If he focuses enough, he can see a glinting, wet trickle spilling from her entrance, her body's way of declaring intense arousal.

 

Bucky can hear soft, hitched breaths escaping through her parted lips, he can see her writhe as an orgasm grows within her. Watching her cast aside her inhibitions and start to unwravel makes him yearn to be the one pleasing her, to be the one who's making her come undone beneath him. At such erotic thoughts, he feels his balls tighten and draw up nearer to his tumescent length, hot and throbbing in his hand.

She truly has him hanging by a thread over complete loss of control. Bucky has to fiercely grip the base of shaft when Jasmine starts moaning, wonderfully sexy, raspy sounds- all so authentic and natural. She's not putting on some 'plastic', fake show, feigningsatisfaction for the sake of viewers or participants. This is a woman so completely in control of her sexuality, genuinely losing herself to the sweet torture of the build-up to release. The notion alone has Bucky desperately trying to dampen the heat of his ardour, to stop himself spilling his own release too quickly.

Wiping the perspiration from his face using the back of his bionic hand, Bucky has to control his shaking breaths, relying on the muffling quality of his mask. His flesh hand is still grasping the base of his cock, in his stubborn reluctance to finish before her. The waiting will make the orgasm sweeter, the sounds of her last moans will be a beautiful symphony worth the momentary agony of holding back. Jasmine's back arches up off of her bed, her toes curling as she squirms uncontrollably, groaning hungrily for the object of her fantasy. In her ecstatic delirium, she slips the forefinger and middle finger of her free hand into her passage, thrusting them in and out. On the moment of penetrating herself, she emits a shrill gasp and whimpers needily-totally lost, in the throes of her imagination. By the sudden further spreading of her legs, Bucky senses her release approaching, and resumes the steady sliding of his hand along his shaft. 

Keening mewls tear their way from deep in Jasmine's throat, the wet whisper of her fingers being thrust in and out of her still audible somehow. Bucky's underwear has been drenched in pre-come, his wheezing gasps as stifled as is humanly possible, his right leg _**shaking**_ . And _**Jesus fucking Christ**_ , he thinks, if his balls were any more drawn up they'd be lodged in his abdomen. His cock feels thick and heavy, beseeching him to push out his orgasm before it tears him apart and consumes his very being.

 

Sounds become louder, smells become stronger, his vision tunnels-focusing  _ **only**_ on Jasmine, beautiful, extraordinary Jasmine. She's his entire world in those few moments, the only thing he can fathom in such a strange, cryptic existence. Bucky's teetering on the edge of plateau, as he slowly grinds his hips up, pumping his length into his own fist-his booted feet rocking slightly. Jasmine is whining and panting, pleading aloud for her fantasy figure-

" _ **Pleas**_ _ **e....please....I wanna come....let me come...f-uuuck...f-uck**_ **me....** " She implores breathlessly. Her voice in the midst of plateau is as magnificent as her singing. Bucky silently prays for her to granted her wish, so he can be spent in tandem with her.

It doesn't take long for his prayers to be answered. With a rough, frenetic cry, Jasmine climaxes- her entrance, with glorious obscenity, clenching around her fingers- her tensed body turning limp and languid on the bed.

Bucky's climax is something to be savoured. He spills warm, wet release into the confines of his boxers, covering his hand, in endless thick, streams. He feels as though his body is being drained of bottled tension with every contracting throb of his dick. It seems like more than he's ever spilt before, his climax so much more powerful. After what could be either a lifetime or ten seconds, Bucky finally stops pushing out the pearly liquid, slumping in his seat whilst enjoying the last few 'dry' contractions of his shaft. He undulates his hips lazily, fucking into his hand, a euphoric peace washing over him.

He wonders if he'd feel the same mystical serenity with Jasmine, pushing back strands of hair, cradling her face and brushing his thumb over her plump lower lip. Now all he wants to do is feel her softness and warmth beside him and listen to her slow, deep breaths.

But something seems to flip inside his brain- he's been lenient, careless, putting himself at risk of being caught. Withdrawing his sticky hand from his underwear hastily, he sits bolt upright, glancing around shiftily in the darkness. He snatches up his discarded knife, gripping it with vice-like force. Now caught between conflicting thoughts- _**lover or target, lover or target**_ \- he rises from the couch, his metal hand clenched into a fist, staring at the nude woman, resting on her bed, enjoying her post-orgasm after glow. Bucky moves forward slowly, the soles of his combat boots barely making a sound, looking at her through hanging tassels of his long dark hair.

 _ **I must detain her. I have to capture her,**_ part of him thinks shrewdly.

 _ **Look at her...she's a breathing miracle, a goddamn angel. I want her so badly...**_ the passionate James Barnes insists.

_**She's needed...** _

_**I want her...I just want to hold her, to kiss her, hear her speak to me...** _

_**She's wanted. Something inside of me needs to have her...** _

_**I wanna make her mine, make her feel good...** _

_**She's just lying there, completely exposed. She's no threat, she's not a target, but she's mine for the taking...** _

_**My beautiful Jasmine...my goddess...** _

_**I'll make her all mine...she's open and ready...so wet...that perfect pussy is dripping...she wants to be fucked...  
** _

_**I just want to see her smile, listen to her sing...** _

 

Bucky inches forward, thoughts battling away inside his skull, getting closer to Jasmine. Her eyes are closed, like she's fallen into a blissful slumber. Guilt rips right through him, but the desire is too strong to be hampered. He crosses the boundary into her bedroom, his footfalls light despite the bulk of his uniform and his musculature. He stops at the foot of her bed. If she were to open her eyes, she would see him stood over her, with a hungry gaze in place. Bucky reaches out with his bionic hand, fingers nearly touching her raised knee. His fingers travel down the length of her leg, never touching, but close to skimming over her rich, almond-brown skin. He wants to kiss her silken thighs, questing slowly toward the warm, slippery softness between them. She looks so relaxed, it occurs to Bucky that she has probably fallen asleep.

Taking a risk, he uncurls his flesh forefinger from the handle of his knife and touches her knee. _**Nothing**_. She's drifted off into slumber.

He gently glides the finger along the length of her thigh, arriving at the juncture between leg and pelvis.

Wondering how far he can push his luck, he grazes the tip of his finger down the slight crease. Jasmine doesn't even shift at the contact. 

That's when Bucky decides to test the absolute limits, and drags his finger towards her labia. Sliding a finger between the dripping wet lips, he feels his cock twitch, the warmth pooling in his groin again. Jasmine stirs sleepily, _**smiling**_ slightly. Bucky gently eases his finger inside of her pussy, having to force back a groan as his finger is wrapped in the wet, clinging muscle of her walls.

"Mm...feels good, baby..." She says, evidently convinced she's either in a dream or being woken up _**very pleasantly**_ by a boyfriend. A strange, fierce sense of possessiveness burns within him at the thought of Jasmine having a lover- but the flaring anger does little to stop his erection. Stretching his thumb awkwardly, Bucky is able to stimulate her now-engorged clitoris, whilst slowly pumping his finger in and out.

Jasmine, eyes still closed, rolls her hips upward, warmly receptive of Bucky's ministrations. "Don't stop..." She sighs, spreading her legs out, a stunning smile spreading across her face. But then her body twitches, and her eyes flicker open, waking from her 'dream'-

The second she takes in the sight of Bucky, she unleashes a piercing scream. Bucky reacts without thought, leaping on top of her, pinning her down, covering her mouth with his bionic hand. Pure, raw terror plasters her face. Her screams are muffled by metal. Bucky can feel her struggle in a desperate effort to break free of his clutches, legs kicking and flailing, body twisting beneath him. Jasmine twists her head, hoping to somehow remove his hand from her mouth, but is instead met with the horrifying sight of his knife. Her screams transition into cries and despairing sobs, tears leaking from her eyes.

 _ **She thinks I'm here to hurt her or kill her**_... Bucky thinks, looking at her completely overcome with fear.

"I don't want to hurt you. I just want to make you mine." He tells her, his voice hoarse from being rarely used.

He doesn't understand why she stares up at him with dread...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, in case anyone was remotely curious, I imagine the original character Jasmine to look a little bit like Zoe Saldana. Just my personal character inspiration.
> 
> To be honest, you can picture her as whoever you want. Tis the beauty of the human imagination! ^.^
> 
> Fingers crossed, this chapter is okay :D


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